“Maybe it was my gun.”

Reid shook his head. “Fuck. You own a gun?”

“I own several, actually.” Including one identical to what had offed my father. I wasn’t quite ready to voice that little tidbit yet. “I was joking, for God’s sake. If my gun had offed him, the cops would know it. All of my weapons are registered to me in the state of Montana.”

“Was one of them recently stolen?” Roy asked.

“I have no idea. I keep most of them in a gun safe, and I don’t look at them every day. The last time I went shooting was over a month ago.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Reid said. “If the murder weapon was registered to you, the cops would know it.”

I rolled my eyes. “I think I just said that. Except that gun at the scene wasn’t registered to anyone, and there’s a problem with the serial number. Whatever the hell that’s supposed to mean.”

“So your prints are on it,” Reid said, “but the gun isn’t registered to anyone.”

“Good job, Holmes.” I rolled my eyes again.

“Chill, Rock,” he said. “I’m just trying to figure this out.”

“I don’t want the cops involved any more than they already are,” I said.

“You got something to hide?” Reid asked.

“Of course not.”

I was innocent. That I knew for a fact. But there was a lot my brothers didn’t know, not the least of which was that I’d tried to off my father when I was fourteen.

My mother did, though.

Fucking Mommie Dearest.

Of course. I should have known. That was why she was in my office earlier demanding several million dollars per year in an agreement just between us.

She was going to go to the cops with her story about my past.

Would she, though? Would she frame her own son just to get money?

I wasn’t about to find out.

If she relayed that story to the cops, it wouldn’t be hard for them to put together a case against me. Despite the prints, they wouldn’t be able to prove I’d pulled the trigger. They could easily prove a motive, though, and make a case that I’d hired the killer to use a gun I’d handled.

First thing tomorrow, I’d make arrangements for her to be paid. Anything to keep her off my back. Besides, I knew this woman. If I didn’t act soon, the price would go up. Then up some more.

Connie herself was innocent as a lamb when it came to Derek’s murder. She wouldn’t off her meal ticket.

But she was damned angry at whomever had, and determined enough to restore her financial status that she’d blackmail her firstborn to keep the green flowing.

Anger boiled in me. Maternal instincts were definitely missing in Connie Larson Wolfe.